


Cherry Bomb

by StrawberryPon



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Blossutch - Freeform, Boomer is confused, But blossutch is just barely in here, Daddy Issues, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Heavy Drinking, I'll forever be Blossutch trash I'm so sorry, Incest, M/M, Rowdyruff Boys Incest, Sexual Tension, Sexuality Crisis, Swearing, a lot of sexual tension like they're so awkward, and Brick isn't helping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4748054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryPon/pseuds/StrawberryPon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I love you," Brick says, and it's the most beautiful piece of music he's ever heard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Bomb

**Author's Note:**

> Boomer and Brick are twenty-two by the way. Just needed to make it clear that I'm not writing pedophilia. Anyways, If you're invested into this story - I don't know why, and I don't know how, but thanks for reading my shit. I'll add fanart to it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boomer isn't going to let his brother distance himself anymore. Time to take action.

The front door was open and smoke polluted the air, causing the atmosphere in the room to become stuffier more so than usual. Not that he wasn't use to the specific smell of vape or the view of wrappers and emptied bottles decorating the kitchen floor, some shattered and the shards hiding under the fridge as if no one would notice. The welcome mat was in the sink, soaking in water and all Boomer could think was - _wow_ , that's new.

There were cans scattered over the floor that lead a line into a room he had halted at before entering, standing right at the threshold with a hand supported against the chipped framing. The smell of smoke had strengthened and he scrunched his nose in protest, holding back a cough that only resulted in his throat feeling rough and scratchy. He grimaced, blue eyes burning until he was forced to squint them.

"Brick," he called out flatly, aggravated from the condition of the household. He could hear faint sounds of shuffling, squeaks emitting from the cheap floorboards.

Soon, after impatiently waiting for his sibling to respond, he took it upon himself to walk inside the room and almost tripped over a bottle in the process. Reluctantly he had used the arm of the couch he ran into to catch his fall, his mouth twisting into a scornful frown. He could see his brother sitting on the couch, shoulders tensed and face hidden by his hands and red locks that were freed from their usually pony tail. The tip of his knuckles were white and ashes scattered along the coffee table, seated right next to a cigarette that was still lit.

Boomer waved a hand at the smoke that finally began to die down and grabbed the bud, crushing the tip against the table. He sat beside his brother, making sure their thighs didn't bump into each other's.

"Tomorrow I'm leaving," Boomer says softly and he noticed the small wince come from Brick. He licked his lips and peeked up from his hands, not daring to look at Boomer yet.

"I'll leave you money," The blue continues, "And you already know my number, so call me if you need help. Butch wanted to say -"

" _Don't_ -" Brick interrupts bitterly and his eyes are quickly met with Boomer's, red and agitated, rimmed with black lines. "Don't talk about him."

Boomer stared long and hard at his brother, eyes traveling over to his hands that shook anxiously. Brick's complexion was paled and if anything, he was the perfect representation of someone who was sleep deprived. His hair was uncombed and messy, the exact opposite of how he would regularly dress. He was shirtless, the whereabouts of his shirt currently unknown. Boomer could see the faint scars that were engraved into his skin, their marks going all the way from his waist - up to his shoulder blades. Questions popped up in his mind but he held back the urge, not wanting to dwell too deep in Brick's awful memories.

He regretted coming over at midnight. He knew Brick would be up but he didn't know he'd be _this_ type of up. Somehow he figured that Brick would be civilized enough to lock his front door and be sober, but no, it was never that easy when it involved him. He was wasted and seemed to be angry for whatever reason, so it was best not to provoke him.

Boomer cleared his throat and thought about speaking again - though the thought vanished when he looked at his brother, the small amount of light peeking through the drapes of the windows and shading over his face. His glowing red eyes were slits, deep and staring at him with intention. Boomer only stared back in silence, his own eyes narrowing. He couldn't tell what his brother was thinking and that worried him, especially since he was in such a drunken state.

"I'm not drunk," Brick says, and for a second he believes his brother possessed mind reading powers. "Not completely, at least."

"You shouldn't be at _all_."

"You shouldn't be here at _all_."

"I should," Boomer defends and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his lungs still taking in numerous amounts of second-hand smoke. "I'm not going to let you just waste away. I care about you, man."

"Don't wanna hear it." Brick holds up a hand and Boomer immediately snatches it, pinning it against the cushion of the couch. It was the wrong move, he assumed, since Brick was shooting daggers through his skull and his fingers were curling into a fist underneath his hand. The blonde swallowed hard, brushing away any thoughts of his brother laying a hand on him - the thought of the _damage_ he could inflict on his body.

"I don't care what you want to hear." Boomer's words fumble out weakly.

Brick nods slowly, "I know you don't."

His heart dropped at the sentence, hitting the very pit of his stomach that stirred something somber inside his chest. Boomer swallowed again, his hand gripping tightly at the other's.

"Dad is in jail again," Boomer states quietly, head lowering. "And he isn't getting out anytime soon, so he told me to look after you."

"Is that why you're leaving me, then?" Brick scowls, face inching closer. Boomer shrunk back. "Because man, fucking A plus on caring for me, right?"

"I'm leaving because this place is horrible," he explains. "Don't act like I'm leaving you when I asked over a million times if you wanted to come with us or not. You're choosing to stay here."

"I'm not living in a place where I'm not welcomed."

"And what makes you feel that you're welcomed here?"

Brick's mouth zipped shut and he redirected his gaze, a small bead of sweat rolling down his forehead and down to his chest. Boomer could feel his fist tighten beneath the palm of his hand.

"I just want you to be safe," he says and scoots closer, not caring if Brick didn't appreciate his space being invaded. He was an important factor in his life and he couldn't just let him rot away in a room. It just wasn't _Brick_. Nothing about this behavior was even related to the person he once knew. Brick was smart and he knew the dangers of constantly intoxicating himself. He witnessed the outcomes all his life yet here he is, drowning his worries away with a bottle and attempting to do it again - right in front of Boomer.

Before his arm even extended out to reach the bottle on the table, Boomer stood up abruptly and grabbed the nozzle, thrashing it against the floor. It shattered into a million pieces and alcohol spilled. The liquor drenched into the cracks of the floor and Brick himself had stood up, arms flexed and face angered.

"What the hell -"

"Shut up, Brick." Boomer scowled, lips trembling. He observed the room one more time, noticing the guck and grime building up in the corners of the wall. The ceiling fan was completely broken and the screen of the television wasn't even connected, it's antennas bent and crooked. There weren't any lights in the room, the moon and street lamps being his only source. Boomer felt like he popped a vein.

"You can't just -"

"Go pack your shit or I'll do it for you." He says finally, pointing to the mouth of the hallway, then jerking a thumb to the exit of the the apartment. "I'll be waiting in the car. If you're not out there by ten minutes then I'm coming back in." He pauses as he strides over to the doorway, hands balling into fists. "-And if you try even locking the door, I'll break the whole damn thing down. Now swallow that."

Boomer exits the building, angrily stomping down the rusted stairs and ignoring the dirty looks he received from loiters, each individual holding a bud between their teeth. They were dirty, laughing lazily and passing around a joint like a gift on Christmas morning. The blonde trotted over to his car, opening the door and sitting in the front seat, waiting patiently for the red head to pack his things. Of course he wasn't _actually_ sure if Brick took his words into account. He knew his brother well, after all. Brick most likely could've taken his warning with a grain of salt and proceeded to get on all fours, licking up his precious liquor because really, that's how desperate he seems for an escape goat.

Two minutes passed by and they felt like hours, then five minutes passed by and they felt like years, then eventually ten minutes had reached and it felt like a millennium. Boomer was leaned back in his seat, hands gripping harshly at the steering wheel as he eyed the door to Brick's place. He allowed an extra minute to pass by before reaching for the handle of the car door, a sound of a closing door catching his attention. He stilled, eyes wandering back over to the building to see that Brick had a bags of clothes in his hands, slowly trudging down the pathway of stairs.

Boomer's heart had calmed and a small, faint smile crept up on his mouth.

"Good," he says to himself, watching Brick throw his things in the back seat before sitting in the front, eyes staring hard at the glove compartment like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Boomer didn't push him into conversation, satisfied enough that his brother complied for once.

He started up the car and the drive to his place was completely silent, awkward, and for once, he felt at peace.

 

* * *

 

 

"Is it good?" Boomer asks eagerly, almost leaning over the table.

"Mm," Brick responds, dipping the fork back into the cake. He takes a moment, scooping a perfect amount and placing it inside his mouth, wrapping his lips around the piece. Everything he did was slow and sometimes he trembled when picking up the silverware. Boomer volunteered to help once, but that only resulted in being scowled at so he held back any worriment.

Boomer found himself staring at Brick's chest, eyes focusing on the marks that dug deep enough to cause scars. He didn't remember Brick having them before, only a total of two from their childhood years - both caused by fiddling around with a stray cat. It bothered him that answers were left unanswered all because of his so called _respect_ for Brick. He was too loyal for his own good.

"Done staring?" Brick asks and Boomer jumps at the realization.

"I wasn't staring." He seethes. "Well, not at your chest. Like, not checking you out or anything but -" he paused, eyes narrowing as he noticed the small smirk Brick was wearing. "Fuck you. You're smart enough to know what I'm looking at."

"I am," Brick laughs dryly, scooping another piece of cake into his mouth. "But that's no fun, is it?"

Boomer's lips thin and Brick finishes off the last piece, setting the fork in the center of the plate when done. He licked leftover icing off his bottom lip, eyes flickering up at Boomer.

"Fights," He answers and takes a sip of his water, hoping it would fasten the sobering process. "That's what it is, Boomer. Don't cry."

"I wasn't going to, but thanks for the heads up." Boomer gets up and grabs the plate, walking over to the sink and turning on the water, soaking a sponge and running it along the exterior of the dish. He scrubbed at the crumbs and icing, Brick watching idly.

"Anytime," Brick rested his head on the table, his hair falling over his droopy eyes. "I could've cleaned it, you know."

"And have my welcome mat in the sink? Nah, I'm fine." Boomer set the dish in the cabinet, turning around and leaning against the edge of the counter, both arms crossed. "You can go hit the shower, though. You reek of alcohol."

Brick shrugged, "Doesn't stink."

"I'll make you sleep on the floor if you don't bathe, dude. Not trying to get that in my sheets."

"Yeah, yeah," Bricks says, though he does get up and walk down the hallway, mumbling nonsense under his breath until he found the bathroom. Boomer was right behind him the whole time, making sure he didn't mess up anything.

Brick turned on his heel and pressed a hard hand against Boomer's chest, holding him at the entrance. Boomer looked down at his hand, confused.

"I know how to work the shower." Brick states and Boomer merely stares, gently wrapping his hand around his wrist, removing it but not releasing his hold.

"You could barely pick up your fork," Boomer reminds. "So right now I don't know if you'll drown or not."

Brick snorts. "What're you gonna do? Watch me bathe like some freak?"

"That's the plan."

Brick gives him the _look_. By look, he means the most dirtiest expression that could cause a million men to feel uncomfortable or confused about their sexuality. Boomer's face darkens in color and he lightly shoves at Brick's shoulder, pushing past his brother and sitting on the closed lid of the toilet.

Brick closes the door behind them, laughing low and manically - just to add for comical effect. Boomer didn't appreciate it, but he did find pleasure in knowing that his brother was joking around, smiling and laughing like he was suppose to be doing. It brought a small smile on his own lips.

Boomer covers his eyes with both hands as Brick gets undressed, the man removing his trousers then boxers before dipping his body into the lukewarm water. He shuddered at the feeling, sinking low until his nose and up were the only thing to be seen. His knees peeked out of the water occasionally, his legs found to be too long for the tub.

Boomer watched the red head close his eyes, sighing and humming peacefully as he relaxed.

"Don't fall asleep or I'll have to haul you out."

"I'm fine," Brick reassures and shifts in the water, rolling his shoulders back. "More than fine, actually."

"Looks like it."

"Thanks, I guess. For um, going off on me like that. It was unexpected."

Boomer fiddles with the bottom of his shirt, pulling on a loose string. "You're welcome, just as long as you know I care about you."

Brick blinks the water out of his eyes and shifts over to the edge of the tub, water rolling off his forearms and onto the floor as he reached for Boomer. His hair stuck to his face, hands reaching out and cupping Boomer's face tenderly. The blonde froze, unable to think clearly at the foreign activity. Brick's never gotten this close to his face, nonetheless cup his cheeks in such a loving fashion that only a lover would do. Regardless of whatever went through his head, Boomer didn't move. He could feel Brick's thumb tease at his skin, and then soft lips to press against his forehead, lingering for an amount of time he didn't bother counting. Brick pulled away, wrapping his arms around his brother's neck tightly, and he could tell that he didn't want to let go. Boomer savored the warmth his body brought despite him soaking his clothing. The blonde clung to him, burying his head in his hair.

Brick's lips brushed against his ear and his heart fluttered, time seeming to stop as they both held one another. He closed his eyes, inhaling the smokey scent his brother held and cherished it.

"I love you," Brick says, and it's the most beautiful piece of music he's ever heard.


End file.
